


Other-Continent Watson

by Dlvvanzor, Living_In_a_Fantasy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Creative sex, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Failed Sex, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, PWP, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlvvanzor/pseuds/Dlvvanzor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_In_a_Fantasy/pseuds/Living_In_a_Fantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John returns home after a week abroad.  After being separated by a continent for a week, Sherlock is determined that fluff, sex, and some sleep must ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other-Continent Watson

It hadn't been hard to convince his mother that he should come on another day.  In fact, the moment he had expressed something like an emotion, about wanting to meet John when he got off the plane from his obscenely-long conference, Sherlock's mother had seemed absolutely delighted to excuse him, and in fact had told him to come the next week instead of the next day.  So, he was in the airport, far after the luggage return where one was required to stand nowadays, bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet and actually considering bonding with the people around him, who looked just as anxious to see their loved ones as he did.

John was exhausted. It had been a long and bumpy flight. Planes didn't frighten him, but it was difficult to sleep with the time difference, and when the plane kept jerking. The landing had been rough, and he'd been near the back of the plane so it had taken _ages_ to get off, and he was really hoping Sherlock hadn't ended up going to his mother's birthday dinner and was waiting to meet him.  People who weren't passengers had to wait pretty far off. Nearly halfway across the airport. John adjusted his bag and slowly started making his way in that direction, amid the crowds of other people walking towards that area. After what felt like forever, he finally got his bag and made it out to where people were waiting. He looked around for Sherlock.

 Sherlock liked John's height all the time, except for when he was trying to find him in a crowd.

 It took long minutes before John finally spotted him. A smile lit his face instantly and he quickly dragged himself towards Sherlock.

 "John!" Sherlock blurted before he could help himself.  The slight bouncing turned into defined bouncing as John got closer to the roped-off area.

 John grinned, getting past the ropes and dropping his bags to the floor to immediately wrap them around Sherlock.  Sherlock pulled him in and tucked him under his chin, trying to press him into his heart, where the hole had been until now.  "John, John John John," he chanted quietly, holding him as close as he could, unable to stop repeating himself.

 John burrowed into Sherlock, shoulders relaxing. He was quiet for a while, simply enjoying the moment, before speaking. "Missed you."

 "Missed _you_ ," he said back softly, taking a deep inhale of John scent.  "I love you.  Missed you."

"Love you too." He squeezed. It had only been a week but it felt like a long time.

 "A week _is_ long," he said, reading John's mind a little.  He squeezed back.

 "Yes." He pressed his weight into Sherlock. "Too long."

 "Can we avoid doing it again?"

"Hope so."

 "You're supposed to lie and say yes," he scolded, pulling back enough to look at him, check him over and see what had changed and whatever else he could deduce.

 "Ah, right." John let Sherlock examine him. "Yes."

Satisfied, Sherlock pulled him in and kissed him swiftly but tenderly, then released all but his hand.  "Proper cuddle in the cab," he explained as he picked up John's bag.

 "But the cab is far away," John complained, leaning against him.

 Sherlock considered this, decided he agreed, and dropped the bag unceremoniously to pull John in again in the middle of the airport.

 John smiled again and pressed close. "Just tired of travel.  Want to be with you."

 "When we get back to the flat, we won't leave for days," he said firmly.

 "Ok," John agreed.

"Lots of cuddling will happen."

 "It better."

 "And kissing."

 "Yes. I like kissing."

 "And a frankly obscene amount of sex."

 "Sex is good," John agreed.

"And sleeping," he added with feeling.

 "God, yes. Sleeping."

 "Frankly obscene amounts of sleeping."

 "The sleeping will be good." John pulled back a bit, but didn't remove his arms. "Can we go home?"

 Sherlock pulled him in for one more lingering kiss, then drew him to the cabs.

 John followed, moving to curl against Sherlock's side the moment they were settled.  They stayed very close to each other through the cab ride, dropping sweet kisses whenever the urge struck, which was often.  Sherlock also kept his hand very pointedly on John's knee, and didn't move it.

 John was exhausted, and part of his body was screaming at him to sleep. Most of it, however, was screaming at him to lean in and kiss Sherlock again, so he did.

 "I do hope you're not extremely tired," Sherlock said into his ear when the surprisingly heated kiss concluded.

John's lips tipped up. "I am, but I'm sure I can get past it."

He placed a soft kiss on John's jaw.  "I think I can keep you awake. Perhaps."

"Oh, do you?" he asked.

Dropping his voice even lower and quieter, he said so that the cabbie wouldn't hear, "Depends on whether or not thrusting up into me on the kitchen table would keep you awake."

 "I think it would, yes," John said after a moment.

 "Because, if you're agreeable, I'll be ripping off your clothes and begging for you, there."

 "I am. Agreeable." John nodded.

 "Or, would you rather do something else?  Somewhere else?  As long as it involves your cock I don't particularly care.  I'm partial to the table but I could be convinced that somewhere else is better.  Would you rather make love tonight, or make me beg?"

 "Either. Both. Anywhere."

He ran his nose along John's neck.  "I'd like to beg."

"Okay," he breathed.

 "If I can keep you awake, do you think you can make me?  Beg?"

 "I can try," John said, nodding.

 "Hm.  Well, considering how much I missed you, I should think that it won't require much effort to reduce me to incoherency."

 "Like doing that." He leaned in to kiss him again.

 He exhaled just a little more heavily than necessary at that kiss as a demonstration of just how responsive he intended to be.  "You've heard me beg before.  But."

 "But?" he asked, pressing their lips together again.

 "But not like you'll hear tonight."

 "Are we almost there?"

 "So you won't mind?"

 "I won't mind." John had forgotten the cabbie was even there.

 "Good," Sherlock said simply, then pulled away from John and crossed his legs elegantly, sitting back in his seat with a smirk.

 John was not pleased with this. He scooted closer.

Sherlock ignored him.

 "Sherlock," he whined.

 "Look who's begging now."

 "You've not seen me for a week. Kiss," he demanded.

 Sherlock continued to ignore him.

 "Please?" He looked up at him.

 Sherlock studied him out of the corner of his eye, then leaned over to press a long kiss to his lips.

 John chased after him when Sherlock pulled back. "Too short," he scolded.

 He seized his face and snogged the breath out of him.

 John blinked at Sherlock hazily when the other man pulled away. Oh yes. Certainly not too tired.

 Sherlock pulled away and sat elegantly back, again, smirk returning to its place.

"No." John tugged at Sherlock's arm.

 Sherlock gave him a smug look then glanced out the window.  They were home.  John didn't notice.  "We're home.  You can fuck me now," Sherlock said bluntly.  John clamored out of the cab.

 Sherlock followed slowly, paying the cabbie, taking his sweet time simply it was fun to watch John wanting him.  The moment he ducked out of the cab, though, John tugged him into a hard kiss and he melted into it with enthusiasm, deepening it immediately, hands going to John's back, running down it to his arse, which he squeezed pointedly, uncaring that they were outside.

 John let out a low, growling noise, pressing their bodies together and finding Sherlock's lips again.

 "Yes, that," Sherlock breathed.  "More of that.  Please."

 "Which bit?" John's hands slowly ran down Sherlock's back.

 "The growling," Sherlock replied, low.  "And the pressing.  And the kissing."

 John kissed him again, holding their bodies together tightly. "Only if you keep talking to me like that."

 "Which bit?" he echoed.

 "That voice."

 "Make me."

 John's hands traveled lower. "If I threatened to back away, would you?"

 In response, Sherlock's hands clenched on John's shirt.  "Don't stop."

"Is that a yes?"

Sherlock pulled him into the flat, kissing him furiously.  John stopped them at the door, pushing Sherlock back against a wall.  He put up no resistance, letting himself hit the wall fairly hard and returning each of John's consuming kisses.  He'd missed him and this was _good_.  "Or here," he managed between kisses.  "Here on the stairs is fine.  She's out.  Mrs. Hudson is.  For a few days.  If.  If no table."

 They'd never tried it on the stairs before. Both options were appealing and it was too much thinking. So John ignored the statement and simply continued to kiss him.

 Sherlock groaned when John ignored him and when his teeth descended to his neck.  "You're right, too much thinking.  So just do it here."

 "Don't have anything with me." His hands went to Sherlock's shirt and started in on the first button.

 "Jacket."  As John's focus went to his buttons, Sherlock's went to John's neck to return the favor.

 John hummed low in his throat, fingers faltering briefly.

 "Hurry up, skin," Sherlock demanded, squirming.

 "You're distracting," he said, getting the second button undone.

 "Well then kiss me more, if it's so difficult for you to do buttons."  He yanked John's face back up to his and kissed him sloppily.

John was distracted from the buttons and pressed back in.

It wasn't something Sherlock did a lot.  Usually John liked to be dominated and Sherlock certainly didn't mind doing it, so that was the most common arrangement.  Even when Sherlock bottomed, he was usually demanding.  This time, though, he wanted to give in, let John lead.  Put himself in John's very-capable hands, to do with him as he pleased and, no doubt, make him feel amazing.  So, with much effort, Sherlock leaned fully against the wall, relaxed all parts of himself except his straining erection, and submitted.

 John took full advantage of that, hands resting on Sherlock's hips, then stroking down his sides, against his neck, touching and exploring him through his clothes. Eventually he set in on the buttons again, wanting to feel his skin. He eventually managed to get them all undone and slowly let his fingertips breeze across his chest.

 Sherlock sighed, arching up into the touch, eyes closing.  "Mmm."

 "You are gorgeous," John said, bending down to let his lips brush Sherlock's skin instead.

 He whined, just a little, letting himself produce any sounds that came to him.  There was no one around to hear and he was John's anyway.

 "So gorgeous." He reached the waistband of Sherlock's trousers and lingered there, watching Sherlock's body twist.  John's lips quirked up against Sherlock's skin. "Good, is it?"

 Sherlock exhaled loudly and dipped to attempt to kiss him.

 John lifted himself enough to meet Sherlock's lips quickly. "Shall we shift over a bit to the stairs, then?"  At Sherlock's cooperative nod, John stood, dragging Sherlock towards the stairs. He pulled him down. "You're sure she won't be in?"

 "Yes."

 "Good." Sherlock's shirt was still on, hanging open. John dragged it off him and dropped it onto the stair above them.  Sherlock took John's hand and put it against his own side, begging for more touch.  "Eager, are you?"  He obliged, however, shifting around until he was looming over Sherlock, one hand bracing himself on the stairs, the other tracing down his side.

 Sherlock gazed up at him, breath coming fast.  He found he was enjoying this 'submitting completely.'  He sucked in a breath when John's fingers brushed a sensitive part of his side.  "Yes.  Want you.  Now.  Please?  Oh, but, stairs and your leg and should.  Shoulder."

 "It'll be fine." He leaned in to kiss Sherlock slowly. "But you see, there's a little problem." His hand slowly went to Sherlock's trousers, drawing out the process of undoing the button and zipper.

 "No, there's no problem.  Mm-mm."

 "But there is," John argued.

 He made a noise of complaint.  "What?"

 "All my clothes are still on."

 "Take them off," Sherlock suggested helpfully, gasping when his cock was released.

 "Want you to take them off," he said, slowly running a single finger along Sherlock's cock.

 He whimpered and his hips jerked without his permission.  He hurriedly pawed at John's jumper, getting it about halfway off before John's arms presented a problem.  John took pity and pulled it off the rest of the way by himself.  Sherlock kissed him fiercely to thank him, then worked at his trousers until he eventually managed to inelegantly get them to John's knees.  He rubbed hard at John's cock through his pants before ripping those down as well.

 John groaned lightly at the movement. "That's it," he said when Sherlock had got his pants off. He shifted back to remove them the rest of the way.

 Sherlock preened at the praise and spread his legs wide.

 "You said you have lube?" John asked, settling between Sherlock's legs and nipping at his neck. His hand lowered to give Sherlock's cock several firm strokes.

Sherlock moaned and gestured uselessly at the crumple where his suit coat was.

"It's a bit far away."

 "Then don't use it," he said immediately.  "Don't need it."

 "No, no, I think we should."  He pulled away to retrieve it.

Teasing bastard. 

John returned, fingers already coated with lube, looking down at Sherlock and considering the easiest way to go about it.

Sherlock laughed breathily.  "Logistics."

 "You can either brace your legs and we can do it like this, or you can face the other way." At least one of the two should work.

 "Um.  Bracing."

 "Alright." John moved back in, waiting for Sherlock to adjust. He wasn't sure if this would work easily, but he was past the point of caring. He wanted to be in him. Now.

Sherlock reminded himself that he was a genius.  He could figure this out.  He moved around until he was fairly sure it would work and was a position he could maintain, then he nodded.

 John leaned down to kiss him then slowly worked his finger in.

 It was certainly different at this angle, but he figured it would work.  His head tipped back and he closed his eyes, then forced them open to look at John.  "More," he said immediately.

 John pressed a second finger in, eyes not leaving Sherlock.

 It was a feeling Sherlock never really got used to.  He was in love with and obsessed with John, but it was still weird to have someone's fingers in his arse.  He bore down against him, gazing at him.  "Missed you," he panted.  The strange position hurt, but it was getting better as he shifted around.  "You were gone far.  Too long and I missed you."

 "I missed you too." John moved carefully, making sure Sherlock was stretched before lining up at Sherlock's entrance. "All I could think about was missing you."

 "Then don't go again," he pleaded, flexing in preparation.  "I need you.  All the time, need you.  Every day, and like this."  His breath caught when John pressed in, cringing at the new pain from such a strange position.

 John immediately paused. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He pulled out a bit, leaning in to kiss Sherlock softly.

 Sherlock hummed happily, returning the sweet kiss.  "Come back, try again."

"It's a bad angle," John said, not moving.

He tugged on him.  "Please, I want you.  Just... down a bit more, I think.  I'll tell you if it's bad."

 John hesitated but shifted, pressing in slowly.

 That was worse.  He gasped in pain and pushed lightly on John's shoulders.

John pulled out quickly and leaned down to kiss Sherlock. "Sorry," he said again, kissing him again and again. "I...maybe we should move..."

 He let his arms hang lazily over John's shoulders, loving the swift kisses.  "We might have to," he said, reluctant to admit defeat.

 "Didn't think this through," John said, pulling away to look at Sherlock. "I didn't think it would hurt you."

 "There's no damage," he assured him, sitting up.  "I thought we'd manage it.  We're rather intelligent."

 John kneeled on the step in front of Sherlock, watching him. "Right. We are."

 "I'm fine," Sherlock said sincerely.  "Promise."  He leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, palm against his cheek.  "We should try it again another day with me on my hands and knees.  When we haven't not seen each other for a week."

 "Okay." He leaned into the touch.

He wagged his bum pointedly.  "See?  Doesn't hurt anymore."  He smiled into the kiss.

 John smiled too. "If you're sure."

"I'm always sure."  He kissed him one last time, then stood and held out a hand.

 John took it and stood too.

 "So has the mood passed?" Sherlock asked with some amusement, kissing John lazily when he was on the step next to him.

 "I think it's at least changed a bit," John said, leading them up and into their flat where he could properly step into Sherlock's arms again.

 "It seems to have."  He ran his hands up John's sides and kept him close that way.  "I _missed_ you."

 "I missed you." He hummed lightly at Sherlock's touch.

 "We should stay together all the time," he said, nuzzling him.  "We shouldn't do a week apart again.  It's too long."

 "A day is too long."

Sherlock felt like he was glowing at those words.  "You're right.  A day is too long."  He put his face in the crook of John's neck and wrapped his arms tightly around him, simply holding him, willing life to be that kind.

"Love you." John squeezed.

 "I love you too."  He couldn't squeeze more without hurting him, so he didn't.  "This was the longest we've been separated since.  You know."

 "Yes." John's grip didn't loosen. "I thought about that."

Sherlock said nothing, unwilling to put any distance between them.

 "Bed?" John asked after a while.

"Both of us.  Together.  Right?"

"Of course."

 "Then yes, bed."

 John dragged him there, grinning at the bed and falling onto it face first.

 Sherlock leapt in after him and aimed his bounce so that he'd land on top of John.  He rolled him over then pinned him lightly and, smiling at him, kissed him firmly.

 "Missed my bed," John said dreamily when Sherlock had pulled away.

 Sherlock huffed.

 "My bed," John said again, grinning.

 "Joooohn," Sherlock complained in a truly magnificent whine that proved he was a younger sibling.

 "Well maybe if you did something impressive, I would talk about missing you more."

Sherlock rolled off him and spread out on his stomach on the bed, arms and legs splayed.  "I can be as impressive as a bed," he said, lying still in imitation of the bed.

 John contemplated this. "I don't know. The bed is softer."

 "My cock is bigger?"

 John hummed, unimpressed.

 He huffed again.

 John ignored him.

 Sherlock ignored him ignoring him.

 John grew bored of the game and poked Sherlock.

 Sherlock huffed grandly.

 "Come here?"

 Sherlock eyed him.

 "Please?" he asked, watching him hopefully.

 Sherlock kept eyeing him.

 John frowned and sadly looked away.

 "You missed your bed more than me," Sherlock complained, rolling over onto John.

John smiled happily. "I did not."

 "You said you did," he whined, wriggling.

"I never said that at all."

 "You don't love me," he said sadly, doing a little more of the wriggling, very aware that they were naked and pressed together.

 John sucked in a sharp breath at the movement. "I do too."

 "Nope."  This time it was a slow thrust up instead of a wiggle.

 "Do too," he said, shifting underneath Sherlock for a better angle.

 Sherlock hummed his appreciation of the improvement, groaning a little when he repeated the motion.  "Do not."

 John wrapped an arm around Sherlock, tugging him in closer. "Do too."

 He dropped his head to kiss John once, hard, and give a matching thrust up.  "Do not."

 "I-I do." His arm around Sherlock tightened.

 "Do not."  The lube that was still on John's cock from before made this easier than usual, and different, and Sherlock was able to keep a smooth, quick rhythm against John's body.

 John's other arm wrapped around Sherlock, keeping him close, body shifting to meet Sherlock's movements. "Do," he said, gasping softly at a particularly good thrust. He arched up, seeking more contact.

 "Don't."  Sherlock pressed down into him, plastering their bodies together and turning what remained of his attention to John's throat, to devour him at the particular points that always made him come apart.  They'd been riled up earlier, and Sherlock hadn't even touched himself in a week, so he suspected this would not be a long encounter.

 John got lost in the feeling of Sherlock's cock sliding against his, their bare skin pressed together, his lips on his neck. God, he'd missed this. He really, really had missed this. "Do," he groaned when he remembered he was supposed to be responding.

 Sherlock couldn't stop his ministrations to John's neck for long enough to say anything, thrusting a bit more wildly as he unraveled.

 Good, he'd won. His arms around Sherlock tightened. Very quickly, he was getting overwhelmed. "God," he gasped when Sherlock reached a particularly sensitive bit of his throat. "Keep..." He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence so didn't, focusing instead on Sherlock's movement.

 He didn't know what John meant he should keep, so he kept doing all of it, with renewed vigor.  "You're... you're home, thank you," he said tightly, lost in the skin and sweat and smell of John.

 "Course home. You're home," he managed.

 "I know.  You always do.  Come home.  But every time I'm happy."  He groaned, no longer having the breath to kiss John's neck, dropping his head next to John's and continuing to thrust.  "Every time."

 "Always w-will." He was trying to meet Sherlock's thrusts but was getting sloppy. After no contact in a week it wasn't taking much, and he knew just _how_ close he already was.

 Sherlock's accuracy was poor as well.  John was always able to take him apart.  "You, forever," he forced out.  It wasn't articulate but considering the circumstances he thought it was damn romantic.

 John didn't have the breath to speak again. It only took several more thrusts from Sherlock before he was coming, clutching to Sherlock's back and pressing up, into him, wanting to be surrounded by him.  Sherlock felt John's wetness against him and wrapped his arms around him tight, following with a cry.  Sherlock was able to kiss the nearest part of John, which was his ear, before slumping entirely.

 It took some time for John to come back to himself, grip slowly relaxing, though he didn't move his arms away.

 "Do too," John said eventually, once they'd both gotten their breathing under control.

 "Do too," he agreed.

 John smiled. He nudged at Sherlock's head, since Sherlock wasn't looking at him. "Kiss."

 "Bossy."  He kissed him.

 John didn't deny it. "Again."

 He did it again.

 John's smile widened. "Again."

 He kissed him again.

 "If I keep saying again, will you keep kissing me?"

 "Mhm."

 "Again," he said promptly.

 He kissed him.

 "Again, again, again, again," he chanted, voice tired but mirthful.

 He patiently kissed him four times.

 "Will you do this every time I say 'again'?"

 He kissed him.

 John grinned at him. "Even at a crime scene?"

 "That refers to this situation, today."

 John sighed sadly. "Ah."

 "You could try asking at a crime scene," he suggested, putting his head down on John's chest and closing his eyes.

 "Will you do it?"

 "Probably."

 John smiled. "And today you will for sure."

 "Mhm."  Sherlock cuddled in closer.  He hesitated.  "Would you be disgusted if I said we should sleep like this?  Without cleaning up?"

 "No. I'm too tired to move." He squeezed lightly. "And I don't want you to go."

 "Good."  He cuddled in the rest of the way, tangling their limbs together.  Already nearly asleep, he asked, "So you're not going to leave again, right?"

 "Right."

 "Okay."  He nodded a little.  "Love you."

 "And I love you." There was comfortable silence for several minutes before John shifted. "Again?" he asked sweetly.

 Sherlock was already asleep.

 John sighed. "Liar," he said good-naturedly. But still, he was exhausted, and his body was reminding him that not only had he had a nine hour flight, he'd had sex after said flight on only several hours of sleep. He drifted off minutes later, thinking about trying out 'again' next time they had a case. And when they were out and about. And hopefully he could say 'again' every single day for the rest of their lives, and Sherlock would kiss him. The week apart had been enough to show him that being apart was unbearable. 

He kissed Sherlock's hair, lightly, and then cuddled in closer to him to fall asleep as well.


End file.
